Tales of a Harlequin: You'll Come Back to Me
by JollyDrolly
Summary: When Harley started to ignore him, he didn't really mind. When she continued doing it long enough, it finally got on his nerves. There was only one thing on his mind: he had to win his Harley back, no matter how much it hurt his pride. One-Shot


_**Disclaimer:**_

 _ **Obviously, I do not own these lovely characters. I wish I did, but sadly it's not the case.  
**_

The Joker always came home thrashed and bruised. That is, if he managed to slip through Batman's fingers and not end up in Arkham. He tried not worry about that every time he went out on a heist. Some days he'd even bring Harley along, but come home without her. Naturally, she hated being left for the cops, but by the time she got out of Arkham—or got busted out by the gang—she'd already forgiven him. Sometimes it would take her a few more days before she could bury the hatchet. And on the rare occasion it took her more than a month to even acknowledge his existence, it really pissed him off.

This was one of those times.

The day's activities had taken their toll, leaving him exhausted and ready to call it a night. As he dragged himself up the stairs, he watched Harley sleeping on the couch. She had been sleeping there since she'd got out of Arkham, more than a month ago. She'd walked home alone and everyone was surprised she had been released so early. She'd resumed her friendly relationship with the henchmen, chatting and playing video games with them. She was not one to hold a grudge, but when the Joker asked her to prepare him a warm bath that very same day, she decided to ignore him. It annoyed him more than anything in the world that she could bear not talking to him for this long. She probably hated the circumstances as just as much as he did—even more, perhaps. She was probably driving herself mad with what she was doing. Any day now, she'd be running back to him. But how long would it be before that day came? To him, it seemed like a long wait. Her tolerance seemed to grow stronger every day. And the sad reality was he missed her attention. There was nothing he loathed more than being ignored.

She looked as beautiful as ever as she shifted from one position to another. Her hair looked so smooth, and her skin so soft. He remembered the way she would sometimes awaken him with a hug in the middle of the night. Her touch was so warm, her breath on his back so soothing. He was brooding again. The nagging voices inside his head were back, and once again, he contemplated whether to win back his Harley or throw her over a bridge so he wouldn't be reminded of those damned memories every single time he saw her face. But all he really wanted was for her to go back to worshiping him.

He spent the rest of the night thinking of ways to get her back. The thought of him trying to win back Harley's approval appalled him, but it was the only way to shut the voices in his head up. He was never a romantic; he only went out on dates to keep her happy. He had never actually given her any real gifts. The gun and knife she received from him should have been more than enough. Everything she was now was because of him. Hell, she should be glad she's still alive, he thought begrudgingly. But she was a woman; no present was ever enough.

Flowers, he thought. But he knew his Harley well; she preferred chocolates. She used to tell him how she would take the chocolates her suitors gave her, and then throw the flowers out. That was until she met Pam and had someone to advise her otherwise. Pam—that was it! If anyone knew how to cheer Harley up, it would be the ever plant-obsessed Pammy.

He drove to Pamela Isley's last known residence. For a split second, he thought it might have been abandoned, though the odd plants on the front porch should have told him otherwise. He walked up the steps and noticed it lacked a doorbell. It was the only house on the block without one. Maybe her doorbell was a plant, too.

Batman must have hit him in the head harder that he had thought; for a while, he could have sworn that the plants were sniffing him. But it was Pam's place; and weird plants did weird things. Still, he wished he had rested his head for a few hours. He felt like the whole world was spinning around him. It wasn't a big deal back in the hideout, but now that he was standing just outside the house of Pam aka Poison Ivy, who despised him very much, he wished he could, at least, see straight.

For a few more seconds, the plants continued to sniff him. Soon after, he heard a voice from inside.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Pam called out.

"Do I really need a reason to visit my favorite plant lady?" He asked, grinning. "Well? Are gonna let me in?"

"Depends... You tell me why your here and I won't have my children swallow you whole."

"Children? Ah, yes, these plants." He always found it funny how she called her plants her children. One of the plants had a mouth and grinned at him. He sighed. "I want to talk about Harley."

There was no response. For the first few seconds, the Joker thought she had ignored him and left, but then, the door opened. She leaned on the door frame, scrutinizing him, making sure he had no weapons in hand. Though, she knew he was an expert in hidden weapons. That, she thought, must have been the reason he liked to wear suits; he could be armed to the teeth and no one would know. But her plants were everywhere, and they've protected her this long. She felt reasonably safe.

"Harley? You came to talk about Harley? You never cared about her; she's just too stupid to realize it," she said bitterly.

"Harsh," he said. "Look, Pammy... I got a serious problem."

"Do tell. I'm sure you deserved it," she said. He frowned.

"She's not talking to me and it's pissing me off."

Pam let out a bitter laugh. "So, you're the one running to me for help now? Wow, did she grow balls."

"Eww, no. You just projected an image in my head. And it was either this or I shoot her in the head for being such an annoying bitch," he said. Again, he considered just killing Harley and moving on.

She made a comment about him sounding like himself again. She seemed to be delivering a speech; probably telling him how much he hated him and how better off Harley—the world, even—would be without him. He heard only a few words before his head started to feel like a drum being pounded by a kid deprived of his favorite toy. His senses started to numb. He probably needed to go to the hospital. It appeared to him that her mouth was moving but no sound was coming out. The ringing in his ears disappeared just in time for him to hear her say, "You're gonna owe me."

"Whatever you want, Pammy," he said.

She let him enter her house. As he came into the light, she noticed the bruises and blood and concluded that he was not going to be much trouble. He caught her looking at his face and she looked away. He hated looking weak. Feeling weak was fine, just as long as it didn't show. After all, the Joker was supposed to be dishing up happiness. His own recipe for it, of course.

They talked for a good half hour. She was straight to the point. They weren't very fond of each other's company and both of them just wanted to get it over with. Pam, having known Harley since college, knew her better than anyone. That might have been the only similarity between her and the Joker: they both claimed to know Harley best.

He kept walking around as they talked, constantly commenting on furniture and on her obsession with plants. She would tell him, "I have more plants in here than you can count. Half of which will release poison gas at my command." Apparently he had been so annoying that she was tempted to just end him then and there. His body wouldn't be that hard to dispose of. And if she was caught, she'd probably be deemed a hero. The only downside was that Harley would never get over it and she'd probably lose her only friend. But she didn't tell him the last part.

The Joker made a few stopovers on the way back to the hideout. Hopefully, Harley would accept his gifts and things could go back to the way they were; she would be her normal annoying self and he'd finally be able to come up with another joke to play on Gotham. He hadn't been able to think straight since he had been deprived of the relaxing warm baths Harley always prepared for him after a long day. She'd scrub his back and occasionally join him. He chose to humor her; it was one of the things she did that didn't annoy him.

Once he got back to the hideout, he began to execute his plan—every last sleep-deprived step of it. It better be worth it, he thought grimly.

Morning came and Harley woke up. To her amazement, there was not a single henchman in sight. On a typical day, the living room would be filled with men by nine o'clock. Her suspicions proved reasonable when she smelled food coming from the kitchen. There was never any food there in the morning. Quickly, she rose out of the couch and followed the smell.

She was met by a generous plate of bacon and eggs, a bowl of cereal, a carton of chocolate milk, and a big tub of ice cream. A note was taped on the table. "Eat up," it said. If Pam had not given her immunity to all poisons, she would have thought twice before devouring the plate of bacon and eggs in front of her. The cereal was sweet and soggy from being drenched in milk; just the way she liked it. The ice cream was every bit the delicious, tooth-decaying goodness its sight had promised. She finished the whole carton of chocolate milk in one breathless gulp. Every single thing on the table felt good on her taste buds. Though it seemed to her that the meal had a Last Supper vibe to it.

As she went back to the living room, she noticed a thin box on top of the couch. Upon close inspection, she believed there was a fifty-fifty chance it was some sort of explosive. If the Joker was playing a joke on her for ignoring him, this would have been the punchline. The odds appealed to her. Holding it at arm's length with her head turned away and her eyes closed, she opened it. To her surprise, no bomb detonated. Opening her eyes, she saw the red dress inside and a note that said, "Wear me". She followed the instructions on the other side of the note and went to the Joker's office wearing the dress. She knocked and waited for a response. She heard music start to play from inside. There was a loud thud, as if the Joker had tripped and hit the floor. After a few seconds, he called for her to come in.

She opened the door and saw the Joker standing in the middle of the room. He held out his hand and she took it as an invitation to dance. She closed the door behind her, accepted the offer, and they danced. The concept of time became a stranger to them. And neither of them spoke the whole time. She was just glad she could feel the heat of his body again. And he was glad to be one step closer to having his Harley back. Not being much of a dancer, she would occasionally step on his foot. They would stop dancing, he'd take off his glove and slap her with it, and then resume as if nothing happened. They continued for hours, until the Joker finally said his feet were tired and they stopped.

He led her to his room.

"I have a surprise for you," he said.

On top of the bed was another box. She noticed that the lid had holes and that the box was... Moving?

"I stopped by the zoo," he said. "Remember when you told me about that pet you used to have as a kid?"

Her eyes lit up. She ran for the box and quickly opened it.

"Puppies!" she chirped.

"They're hyenas. Much more pleasant to hear laughter than dog barks, don't you think?"

She ran back to him and gave him a big hug. "Aw, puddin'! I don't know why I did what I did. It hurt so much not speaking to ya'. I missed yer touch, yer smell..." The tears she had been holding back since they started dancing started to run down her face. "I missed sleeping in bed with ya', kissing ya'... Oh, puddin'!"

"Um..." His body ached as she hugged him tightly. He wished his senses could become dull again so he could be numb to the pain. He was glad to feel her affection again, but he was bruised, beaten and sleepy; even the Joker had to rest. "Did you like the surprise?"

"Of course I did! I'm gonna name 'em Bud and Lou. We're gonna raise 'em and we'll build a family. A big happy family! Wouldn't that be nice?"

He hadn't even considered how difficult it would be to take care of two baby hyenas, let alone have them around the hideout. He just wished they wouldn't rob him of his Harley.

"Uh, Harley?" he said.

"Yes, puddin'?"

"Prepare me a bath, will ya', pumpkin?"

 _ **Author's notes:**_

 _ **Special thanks to Esther-Channah for beta-ing this story! Reviews are appreciated.**_


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